DS Jessica Daniel series: Locked In/Vigilante/The Woman in Black - Books 1-3 (113 page)

‘Do you mind if I leave, Hugo?’

‘No, I’ll come with you if you want?’

‘I’m going back to the station for a while.’ It was an odd thing to do given it was late on a Saturday evening but the man said nothing, as if her answer was the most normal
thing.

‘That’s fine. I’ve enjoyed it today.’

Jessica leant forward and kissed him on the forehead. ‘Thanks for coming. We should go out again sometime.’

She left him showing off more card tricks and went to find Caroline to apologise for leaving early. She said she had a slightly upset stomach and kissed the newly married couple, warning Thomas
he’d better look after his bride. The pair were going on honeymoon for a fortnight the next day, so Jessica told her friend she expected a present and hugged her a final time before walking
quickly out to the front of the building.

A couple of taxis were already waiting and Jessica got into the first one.

‘Are you “King”, love?’ the driver asked, half-looking over his shoulder.

‘Sorry?’ Jessica replied.

‘I’m here to pick up someone called “King”. I thought it was a couple though.’

Jessica realised the golf club was out of the way and the only taxis would be ones other people had booked. She couldn’t be bothered waiting. ‘Yeah, sorry it’s just me,’
she said.

‘Where are you off to?’

‘This might sound weird but can you take me to Longsight Police Station?’

‘Are you sure you’re “King”? My note said a couple to go to Stockport.’

Jessica sighed. ‘All right, you’ve got me. My last name isn’t King but I am a police officer who’s a little bit tipsy and I could really do with getting back to the
station.’

The driver turned around and Jessica saw him eyeing her outfit. ‘All right, whatever you say, love. I’ve not seen too many “officers” wearing a dress like
that.’

Jessica wouldn’t have let too many people get away with looking at her the way the driver had and it was clear he didn’t believe who she was. Partly because of the alcohol
she’d had but also because he started driving in the direction she needed to go, Jessica said nothing.

The man tried to strike up a conversation more than once but Jessica was pretty adept at giving dull answers to make him stop and he eventually pulled up outside of the police station.
‘Are you sure this is where you want to go?’ he asked sarcastically. Jessica ignored his tone and dropped some money on the passenger seat before getting out of the vehicle and walking
towards the main door.

Most of the officers on duty on a Saturday night would have been in the city centre dealing with various amounts of trouble. Jessica knew the station would only get busy in a few hours when the
first van of people arrested for various drink- or violence-related crimes would arrive.

As she walked into the station, the desk sergeant first looked her up and down and then did a double-take when he realised the woman in the blue dress and matching shoes with her hair clean and
down was the same person who usually wore a trouser suit with her hair tied back in a ponytail. Jessica ignored his stare, walking around the counter as she would do usually.

‘Are you all right?’ the sergeant asked.

‘Fine. I’ve just got to check something in my office and then I’ll need a lift home if you can get someone to sort that?’

‘I’ll see what I can do.’

Jessica walked along the corridor to her office and opened the door. She turned the lights on and headed to where there were the usual piles of clutter on her desk. She sifted through a few
things and then settled on a copy of the photo that showed Edward Marks and the woman who had been Samantha Weston.

Something about the photo hadn’t seemed right to Jessica when she had looked at the picture before and only now was she beginning to understand what it was. Ed and Sam were holding their
glasses towards the camera in exactly the way the photographer had said looked awkward. Thoughts began to swirl around her head as Jessica wrote frantically on a pad the names of people she would
have to speak to before the weekend was over.

Jessica spent her Sunday partly at the station and partly at home, trying to get hold of the people she needed. By mid-morning on the Monday, she had checked over the final few
things from her flat. There had been little point in going to the station as the commute would have wasted time.

Jessica phoned Cole’s mobile but it went straight to voicemail so she called his desk phone, which also went unanswered. She then called the station’s reception and told the person
who answered who she was. ‘Is the DCI around?’ she asked.

‘Haven’t you heard?’

‘What?’

‘They arrested George Johnson first thing this morning. He’s been in there with him all morning, it’s chaos here.’

‘What about Jason?’ Jessica asked.

‘I’ve not seen him all morning. I assume he’s there too.’

‘Shite.’

‘Do you want me to take a message?’

‘No, I’ll be in later.’

Jessica had learned the hard way a couple of years earlier not to go charging in on her own but felt hamstrung by the fact all of her supervisors were unreachable. She could have contacted one
of them the day before but didn’t feel as if she had the entire picture and figured gathering that evidence before taking it to her bosses couldn’t do much harm.

She drove to the location she needed to be at, completed one final task and stood outside of the big front door feeling the rain fall on her hair. As she had struggled to figure everything out
over the past few weeks, the sun had shone but now she believed she knew a lot of the answers, the weather had finally turned. The irony of it happening just after the air-conditioning had been
fixed at the station wasn’t lost on anyone.

After knocking on the door, Jessica waited in the rain for the man to answer.

Charlie Marks soon opened the door wide and waved her in. He was eating a piece of toast, rotating his free hand around in a circle as if to apologise. When he had finished chewing, he smiled.
‘Sorry about that, I know we spoke yesterday but I didn’t know exactly what time you were coming.’ Jessica closed the door behind her as Charlie ate the final piece. ‘Was
there anything in particular I can help you with?’ he added.

Jessica shook her head. ‘Not specifically, we’re just tying up a few loose ends.’

Charlie was unmoved. ‘Do you want to look through the things upstairs again?’

‘There are a couple of pictures I was hoping I could borrow for a short while.’

Charlie shrugged. ‘That’s fine, do you need my help? You’re welcome to look on your own if you know what you’re after.’

‘I’ve seen them before. They’re just upstairs if you don’t mind.’

‘It’s fine. I’ll be in the kitchen if you want me.’

Jessica made her way up the stairs in the same way she had done a few times previously, heading to the room where Charlie had handed her the photo of the rugby team and where she had found the
photo of the six young men on holiday. She could feel her heart beating faster as she stepped across the threshold, walking towards the window. There was a steady beat of the rain falling outside
as Jessica looked out towards the back garden wondering about the specific questions she didn’t yet know the answers to.

The serene view was almost hypnotic as she stared into the distance before turning around and walking towards the box where she had previously looked through the photographs. She was partly
relieved to see the ones still there from the last time she had been in the room. Jessica had no reason to think they would have been moved and ultimately it wouldn’t have altered her theory
but it was nice to hold some degree of proof in her hands.

Jessica stood thinking about her next move. Should she return to the station with what she was holding? It appeared Cole was going to be unavailable for most of the day and, although she was
confident she knew what was going on, Jessica wasn’t completely sure.

After a few moments’ thought, she took the photographs downstairs, entering the kitchen where Charlie was sitting on a stool typing on a laptop computer that was on the main counter.

He glanced up as she walked in. ‘Did you get what you needed?’

‘Yes, here you go.’ Jessica held out one of the photos and Charlie took it, looking at the picture then up to Jessica, clearly confused. ‘What about these?’ She handed
him two more photos which he took, glimpsed at and then put on the counter.

‘I’m not sure what you’re showing me,’ he said.

Jessica smiled thinly. ‘Is there something you want to tell me, Charlie?’

‘Like what?’

There were a few moments of silence which Jessica let hang before continuing. ‘Given it was Sunday yesterday, it took a bit of doing but I managed to speak to a couple of your former
colleagues at Bennett Piper. It wasn’t the first time I’d talked to them but this time I knew the right questions to ask.’ Charlie shuffled nervously but didn’t move from
his stool. ‘This time I asked about how you quit your job and I’m sure you know what the reply was.’

The man shook his head. ‘I sent them an email, so what?’

Jessica nodded. ‘That’s right; an email to your boss and a couple of text messages to your other colleagues. If I had known that all those weeks ago, it might have had me thinking
straight away.’

‘About what?’ Charlie reached forward, closing the lid of his computer.

‘About the fact no one I can find has seen you in person since you announced you were moving back up north to see your brother again.’

Charlie was silent for a moment, as if thinking how to reply. ‘I’m not sure what you’re trying to say.’

Jessica nodded and picked up the pictures the man had put on the counter. ‘What were you like as a kid, Charlie?’ He shrugged as if not knowing what she was getting at. She held up
the photos one by one for him to see. They were the same ones she had looked at upstairs a couple of weeks ago before finding the one of the six men on holiday. ‘You liked football,
yes?’ she asked, showing him the one of the young boy with a ball.

‘So what? Lots of people do.’

‘Were you a good angler? I’m not sure I would have guessed you were a keen fisherman.’ Charlie looked at the second photo and shrugged. ‘What about building sand-castles
with your brother? Do you remember that?’

‘I have no idea what you’re getting at.’

Jessica picked up a fourth photo from the counter. It was the one of the two boys doing their homework together while sitting across from each other. ‘Even your body language since I
walked in has told me everything I needed to know. When you were eating as I came in, the toast was in your left hand. When you shut the laptop lid, you did it with your left hand.’

Charlie started to stand but Jessica raised her voice and he almost cowered under it, sitting back down. ‘How about this photo of you building sandcastles? The older, blonder child –
Charlie – is using his right hand while Ed, the younger, dark-haired kid, is using his left. In the one of you doing your homework, Charlie, the older, blonder child is using his right hand
while Ed, the younger, dark-haired kid, is using his left.’

The man shuffled nervously but seemed transfixed by what she was saying. ‘How about young Charlie kicking a football with his right foot? Or young Charlie holding a fishing rod with his
right hand? And that’s where the problem is because, in the photo of Ed having a drink with Sam Weston on holiday, just like the ones from when he was young, he is using his
left
hand to hold his drink.’

The man winced at the sound of Sam’s name. ‘You know her name, don’t you,
Edward
?’ He said nothing but Jessica stood, continuing to speak. ‘It wasn’t
Edward’s hand we found first of all, it was Charlie’s. You killed your brother, then took his identity, acting as if you were only just returning from London. I checked the dates and
Charlie’s colleagues say he left his job a fortnight before his hand was found. When I spoke to you on the phone, you said you were coming up to Manchester on a train. But you were already
here because you’re Edward and you never left.’

The man shook his head. ‘I don’t know why you’re saying all of this. I use my right and left hands to do things.’

‘It’s not about being right- or left-handed. That was just what got me thinking. The hand we’ve been thinking of as Edward’s this whole time was never identified by
anyone because we didn’t have anything else to match it to – except for when you came along and gave us a mouth swab. But all that proved was that the hand belonged to your brother. You
reported “Edward” as missing, even though you
are
Edward. When we matched the DNA and you told us you were Charlie, we made the obvious conclusion we had found Edward’s
hand. But the DNA was always going to be a match because you
are
brothers. We just didn’t know which one had lost a hand and which one hadn’t.’

Jessica stopped for a breath before continuing but he didn’t attempt to respond. ‘From the photos, you look fairly similar,’ she added. ‘Because Charlie had been out of
the area for such a long time, all you had to do was dye your hair and you would easily pass as him as long as none of Charlie’s colleagues in London ever saw you.’

The man’s voice was level and had a small undercurrent of menace that wasn’t lost on Jessica. ‘Even if all of this were true, how would you prove it?’

Jessica was feeling a little nervous and wondered if she should have involved officers higher-up from the station. She ignored his question and continued. ‘I still don’t know
everything. I don’t know which brother contacted the other about reconciliation but I guess it was you because it was the only way you could make the plan work. I assume the figure in black
on the cameras was also you? You’re roughly the same size and shape but the same thing always confused us; the way the person walked in those shoes. I’ve not figured it all out yet but
there were women’s shoes in one of the bedrooms upstairs at the bottom of a wardrobe. Considering the only people who lived here were you, your brother and your father, I don’t know why
there would be the need for female things. There were so many random items around it didn’t register at the time but there were women’s heeled shoes in there plus other female clothes
in boxes. When I first came here, your neighbour told me he didn’t like to stick his nose into other people’s business but, when I visited him this morning and asked what he meant, he
said he’d often seen a man in women’s clothing coming in and out of the house late at night. He was pretty sure it was the young man who owned the house but didn’t want to say
anything about it. There’s no law about cross-dressing but I can’t help but wonder if that’s why you were so confident about walking in heels?’